


a pleasant warmth in my body

by pomegarnet



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Bar fights, Dialouge Heavy, Implied/Referenced Sex, M/M, Modern Era, cursing, everything is implied, implied emotional abuse, implied suicidal thoughts, its implied they have sex at the end, prompted fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-20
Updated: 2016-06-20
Packaged: 2018-07-16 06:51:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7256806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pomegarnet/pseuds/pomegarnet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bars are always fun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a pleasant warmth in my body

**Author's Note:**

  * For [stonerjohnlaurens](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stonerjohnlaurens/gifts).



> this was wholiveswhodieswhomakesitoutalive/ @actualjohnlaurens/Vic's prompt:
> 
> "Lams + Teeth 14"
> 
> @ vic im sorry ily
> 
> title is from "the duel" from great comet!

Bars are always fun.

The music thumping in your veins, a downbeat to your heartbeat; and alcohol is the rhythm, the rhythm that gets stuck in your head for days on end. The lyrics are the drunken words and phrases slurring and oozing out of your mouth  
\-- not your head, you don't think of what you say when you're in love or intoxicated.

They really have no idea how they got here -- not in the bar, but in the… ‘position’ they're in. The two of them are ok with showing affection in public, but the events leading them up to what place they're in -- John on Alexander’s lap with a pint in hand -- passed in a hazy, drunkenly blur.

“Do ya,” Laurens’ pauses, the words on the tip of his tongue. He snaps his fingers attempting to unpuzzle his sentence, “Do ya,” and he’s repeating himself, “Wanna ‘nother drink? Or like, somethin’ to eat?”

Alex’s hands are underneath his shirt, teasing his skin, and his nose is nestled tightly in the nape of his neck. He looks up at John fondly, raising his head. His eyes are teasing and lustful; his smile sly when he says “Can I--”

“--Save the sex innuendos for tomorrow morning, babe.”

Alex tightens his arms around John’s middle, resting his face next to the collarbone of the boy on his lap. He yawns a bit, and leaves a quick peck to his neck, “I’m cashin’ that in tomorrow morning.”

“Well, I mean,” and John ducks his head down, stopping at Alex’s ear and whispering in his ear, “You could cash it in later tonight, if ya wanna.”

He can feel Alex’s lopsided grin in the crease of his neck, moving up to his jaw; the hand on his stomach moving to his hips, his thighs and --

The smashing of a glass bottle on some poor guys’ skull from across the bar room. John and Alex look up from… whatever they were going to do. One guy’s on the floor surrounded by shards of glass, clothes soaked in alcohol; and some other hot shot glaring down at him, while their presumed friend group are taking shots at the table, chanting ‘Fight! Fight! Fight!’ and one stand out yelling ‘Brawl! Shit’s about’a go _down_!”

The guy on the floor gets up -- he’s around 5’3 and the other man is close to 6’1 -- and fucking uppercuts the taller of the two.

“Holy _shit_! Can that motherfucker teach me how to do that?” John's admiring the guy, Alex can tell, ‘cause Laurens gets this look in his eye, like there’s a comet in it and it's about to strike down; and his smile is bright and he’s glowing -- his smile’s always bright and he’s always glowing, but more so -- and Alex knows that look ‘cause that's how John looks at him.

“You’re staring again, babe.” John says, pinching Alex’s nose.

Alex smirks at him, “I’m admiring the art.”, and then the two people sitting next to them try to break up the fight, only to be caught in it, and, shit, yeah, someone got a broken arm and someone's screaming and more people are joining and it’s like the entire damn room is fighting like they’re inside the fucking _thunderdome_.

“Alexander,” John takes his hand in his, intertwines their fingers and rubs his thumb up and down Alex’s knuckles, “You know how madly in love with you I am?” And, fuck, he’s gonna bribe Alex, of course his boy would, Alex should know him by now, “Can I go join the brawl?”

Alexander tightens his arms on Laurens’ waist.

“Ham, _please_ \--”

Hamilton pulls him down to his ear, “I’m going to let you go,” and the way he says it, the sultry and lustful tone, sends goosebumps down Laurens’ spine, “But you need to be caged before you can, baby. Just wait a minute.”

It's not even a minute, more like, 13 seconds before the lace arms around John’s waist unravel and he throws himself into the brawl.

Fighting is something Laurens loves, it’s something he’s good at.

There’s a thrill in the pain, not thinking, but acting, being able to shut out the voices inside your head tempting you and tempting you and telling you -- _yelling_ at you the things you know, the things you feel and the things everyone else thinks you are; _‘Fucking insane!’_ , _‘How isn't he dead yet?’_ , and he agrees with them, he knows he’s on a journey and death’s his arrival, he _craves_ the idea of it, and he knows someone’s gonna miss him, grieve him; but he can't find it within himself to give a _damn_ \--

He punches a guy in the face.

\-- and he knows people think he should get help  
but he doesn't need it, he does not want it and--

A rushing gush of blood oozes from his mouth and one of his teeth drops to the floor, blanketed by his own blood. He wipes it off, like how anyone else in his position would, gets back on his feet, but then someone grabs his arm and he's moving away from the brawl to the restroom.

The hand on his arm is small and is warm and inviting and he can feel the calluses of it and he knows it's Alex, _his_ Alex.

“Are you okay?” Hamilton looks down at him, eyes full of worry. Laurens’ nods in response.

Alex exhales. “Good,” and pulls John into a tight hug, kissing his hair, “Let's go home.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
The walk home is awkward, they aren't talking to each other, but they're holding hands, and Laurens has no idea what he’s gotten himself into.

They arrive at the apartment they have, blank and uncolored walls, and it feels even emptier that their roommates -- their _families_ aren’t here here.

Alex locks the door, top and bottom, and then leans against the back of it. “Sit down.” and John does what he asks, he doesn’t have any way to not do what Alexander asks.

The apartment is eerily quiet, except for the breeze of the open window.

Alex walks over to his Laurens, sits on the bed next to him, puts a hand over his thigh, takes a deep breath and doesn't exhale, but gulps it down. A pregnant pause between them, and then, “We need to talk.”

John’s heard those words before, it's usually an advice session from his father, and then he tells people what advice he got and they always have a worried expression, _‘That's not advice!’_ they claim, but he doesn't listen to them. They’re wrong.

“About what?”

Alex takes his hands, holds them and rubs his thumbs over the small bruises on his knuckles. He sighs, unable to meet John’s eyes, “About you and fighting.”

John tears his hands from Alex’s, a sneer appearing on his face. “You were the one who let me go fight”, He accused.

Alex moves his hands up, centimeters away from his chest, pushing away saying, “Hey, hey,” he crosses his arms, “I never said I didn't do that! But, you _do_ need to stop fighting. For at least a while, _please_.”

Laurens snarls at the idea, rolls his eyes, “Why?”

Hamilton’s expression and voice are monotone, “Because you have to be safer.”

John's tone and face are equally as monotone, “I don't see why.”

Alexander does break out of dullness, grasping John’s shoulders and shaking him, “Because I don’t want you to die! Just, you don’t even have to stop, just, just,” He pauses and struggles to compose himself, “Be safe.”

John knows Alexander cares about him-- of course he does, they’re in love! But this isn't the best conversation about this he’s had ever, and it’s not going to change anything, but he can cease the worry Alex has, “I will.”

Alex lays down on the bed, and John follows, pulling up the blankets, and they start cuddling.

“Move your arm.”

“Only if you get your cold ass feet of my calves!”

They lay there a while, looking at each other.

“I don’t want you to die.”

“Why not?”

Alex pulls John closer in his arms, a childish smirk on his face as he tries not to giggle. “Cause then I won't see my Laurens’ cute face.”

He gets awarded a smack on the arm for that. “Be serious!” John scolds, face flushing scarlet, laughing. Alex is staring at him with a wide mouth.

“Holy shit.”

“What’s wrong, babe?”

“You lost a fucking _tooth_.”

“It was from the bar fight!”

“No shit! But, it makes you even cuter.”

Laurens giggles. “You’re so in love, man.”

Hamilton hums contentedly. He moves his head to Laurens’ ear, and asks in a whisper, “Can I cash in the favor right now?”

The one-tooth-less lovesick grin Laurens gives him is worth the entire world.

**Author's Note:**

> im on tumblr @garnetcomets
> 
> prompt me stuff and talk to me I Love Talking!


End file.
